Bar Dates
“May I ask whose corpses these are?”
“You may,” Vincenza answers, dragging out the fleshy cadavers from the bar’s freezer.
“What—Oh, uh, who did these corpses belong to?”
“These are vintage, from right when the Immortal Queens began their reign. The bodies are unlabeled, but I assume they were just common laborers who were stolen out from a crematorium’s storage.
More importantly, they should already have the reagents lodged into the fat of their skin.
Dikivda lakdet vetev. Xak vetev ve. Tirit lavdexi. ”
All three corpses climb off the ground, shaking off the ice scale along their surface.
“I thought I was animating them?”
“You will. I’m just tired of dragging them.” She locks the freezer shut. “Repeat ‘kivde kilit dilakdev ixak ve. Tirit lavdexi’ to take control of them.”
“Kivde kilit dilakdev ixak ve. Tirit lavdexi.“ I grab their chains from right out under her.
“I was hoping you’d wait until we got the drinks ready, but good job with them nonetheless.” She pulls me by the hand to the main room. “Would you order our servants to set up the drink mixer?”
I turn my gaze upon them, burning my will into their mind.
I almost wish they could feel pain.
“Good.” Vincenza sits us down on the stools. “I don’t want to drain you, so you can take the front facing servant while I make sure the two in the back keep the fryer and oven running.”
“Could you do that now? I want to enjoy the pizza before my head gets dizzy.”
“Kivde kilit dilakdev ixak ve. Tirit lavdexi.“ Vincenza steals two of my servants and sends them into the back. “I’ve particularly enjoyed their flavor of near-cheese-like toppings.”
“I liked the pizza you bought last night. How does this compare to that?”
“Worse. Absolutely worse,” she laughs. “How have you been finding… your new diet. You know I don’t expect you to follow it.”
I sigh, “it probably would’ve been better to start it before going into necromancy. It’s hard to find new foods now.”
“I know. But, there is a small upside. Your sense of disgust is about as dulled as your sense of pleasure.”
“Is that why there was a half-eaten tomato on my desk last night?” I tried to have the rest this morning, and… it was so odd. The texture was completely unlike an apple, but I couldn’t tell that the flavor was off.
“It was our only fruit, besides pepperoncini. We’ll get some more tonight.”
Ours. We.
We are sharing a life and house. It feels so intimate when I’m reminded of it like that.
“I look—Should we not appear so dovey? When do people start coming in?” I ask.
Her face falls. “Half an hour, about. Piero likes being early, so we should be presentable before then.”
“Am I?”
“You’re perfect.” She places a kiss on my lips. “That should keep you sated for the rest of the night.”
I touch my lips, hollow without her against them. “I could be a bit more sated.”
“Don’t test me.” She attacks me in an assault of physical affection that I cannot resist.
Hmm… I like how the ‘music’ affects me when reusing these spells. It’s soft, subtle. An echo of a great feeling with hopefully less of a fall. Not that I’ll mind the next time I taste it in full.
Reverberating knocks from the door fray my nerves into shock.
Vincenza worriedly checks behind me, then adjusts the hair out of my face. “I’m your mistress, not your sexual partner. Remember.”
“I can… I’ll go see who’s out there.” I stand up, starting to feel the lightheadedness kick in.
I’m very lucky that the door was locked. Only that and the shut blinds saved Vincenza from the scandal of having shown me her affection.
Opening the door, I quickly have to dodge out of the way of a hug from my father.
“Give me a hug, you brat!” He bellows a hard laugh and gives me chase.
“Stop! Stop! I have to focus on the animation!” I run to hide behind tables and loose chairs.
He wears an oversized suit, the one he inherited from his father. Grey and boring and definitely a bit much to wear on a fishing trawler.
My mother wears a calm red suit, a bit faded. “Benetto, let your daughter rest. She’s been working all day.”
“But look at her! An actual necromancer! I couldn’t be more proud,” he says.
“Thanks, Dad.” It means something—not a lot, but something.
He appraises my dress. “You look so gaunt. You are eating no less than five well-sized courses tonight.”
“My servant is preparing me a milkshake. Mistress Vincenza’s is using hers to prepare pizza.”
Vincenza bows her head slightly. “I’m glad to meet you again, Misses Cecilia de Alioni. I have not been introduced to the…”
My mother corrects, “it’s ‘miss.’ And this is her father, Benetto di Mazi.”
“My apologies.” Vincenza looks at me, eyes slightly uncomfortable. “Your shake has actually been waiting for you, Catarina.”
“Oh!” I run forth join next to her on the bar.
I guess I’m glad that it’s almonds all the way down. The slight hint of nuttiness gives it a nice air of something that exists.
“By the Ring, that’s an actual animation.” Mercurio wanders between me and Vincenza, leaning over the counter to gawk. He doesn’t know what he’s getting in between.
“Woah,” Vivian adds.
They both wear their typical drab outfits. No point in unaffordable suits for them.
Vincenza speaks up to praise, “Catarina has been a perfect apprentice. She’s adept at learning and has minimal problems with obedience.”
Our eyes meet for a moment on her last word. I play it close and wink at her.
“I’m happy to learn she’s doing well.” My father coughs. “I wanted to introduce myself to you, myself. Benetto di Mazi, as Cecilia said.”
“Great. Misses Vincenza Nasciowa wdowa.”
This is the first time I’ve heard her full full name.
“So… she has a patron?” he asks.
“Oh, yeah…” Mercurio grinds. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Hold on, Mercurio. I know that our girl here prefers other ladies,” my father reminds.
“Sh-shu—“ Fuck. I cover my face in a hand. “I only just got close to her at the Lights Festival.”
My mother takes the seat next to me. “Honey, that’s so sweet. Tell us more!”
“You have to now,” Mercurio teases.
“I don’t want to,” I mutter.
“Aw, come on. Is she nice? Is she attractive?”
“The most. In both. She didn’t even ask for payment in return; she just liked me.”
“What about her do you like?” Vivian asks.
“She trusts me deeper than I’ve earned—and it’s not some trick!” I eye Mercurio. “She’s… shown me her trust. I know she’s a Ringborn and I’m just a consort, but she makes me feel worthy to stand next to her.”
Vincenza circles a finger over the counter. “Your mystery patron, you always sound infatuated with her beyond practicality.”
“I… wish it could be more than practical,” I admit.
She diverts her head to the backdoor. “Servants finished the pizza. You all should select a booth if you wish to share the first batch. I’ll watch the counter, Catarina.”
I can maybe guess that the servants were waiting for her to need that transition.
Still, I take it. It’s been nearly a season since I’ve seen my father.
“So, what’s my little girl’s take home?” he asks while pulling off a slice.
“I technically get a couple hundred crescents in stipend. I haven’t had a reason to spend much though—Vincenza typically pays for my food anyway.”
“Only two hundred? For an apprentice? That’s half of how much I’m making, and my free pizza is…” Mercurio looks disappointedly at his poor cheese pull. “It’s better than this.”
I mumble, “it’s per week.”
Everyone’s eyes light up and stare at me.
“Shit, Catie. That’s how much Dad makes a season at sea! You haven’t sent anything home?” Mercurio exclaims.
“Oh, I—It didn’t come to me that I should. How much do you want? I think I have nine hundred now? I’ll ask Vincenza to help me write a cashier’s check.”
“Really, what’d you do to hit it off with her? Were you studying necromancy and not telling us?”
“No.”
She made a promise to take me in, not yet knowing it would be me. It’s almost silly, in hindsight, how difficult of a plan it was to push me away while paying me so strangely well for so little. I guess she had to genuinely try to keep me, even if she tried everything to be rid of me.
Maybe that’s still her dilemma.
My family goes about eating, and I let my servant stop tending the technically closed bar counter to take their orders.
I’m a bit pleased when it comes back with extra cherry seltzer—a simple kitchen mistake from my perfect being. It’ll just make those sometimes, I’m sure.
I’m giving a smile to Vincenza at the bar for no reason.
“There’s no meat on the menu,” Mercurio complains.
“What? I thought you already ordered mozzarella sticks—those are real cheese, I think, too,”
“Now I’m worried you had to specify that they were cheese. You haven’t gone soft on goats, have you?”
“No. My… appetite just changed a bit since becoming a necromancer.”
“You’re drinking your milkshake just fine,” my father comments.
I tilt the glass. “It’s just almonds. Maybe oats. Coconut? I don’t know. Probably almonds. It has a more dramatic taste, which I need to feel anything.”
“Catie, have you been having trouble eating?” my mother asks.
“No,” I swiftly reply.
I’m already feeling tired from interacting with the living—I don’t need to be lectured by them too. They don’t know half the beauty of being a necromancer. They’ve never cast spells. They’ve never had the music of the dead whisper advice into their ears.
I know one woman I can share my experiences with, my mistress, Vincenza. We share the briefest gaze together, before Piero interrupts the bar with his presence.
“What a lovely—Vincenza?” He freezes in place after she turns her head to him.
I run out from my booth to join them both. “Hey, Piero. And his boyfriend.” I wave to the other guy.
“Yeah, about him—Wait. I’m not ignoring this.” Piero beams with the widest smile he’s ever shown. “I was not expecting you to gain a consort.”
Vincenza sighs. “I had some encouragement from Catarina and spent a night with someone during the Light’s Festival. It was a modest event, really.”
My memory of her that night certainly doesn’t feel modest.
“That’s amazing, Vinzie. You gonna meet with her again?”
“The parlour’s a public space. If she comes in… she comes in. Maybe I’ll see her today.”
“Piero”—I lean onto the counter—“I had to go through my own questioning on the nature of my patron from my family. You’re Vincenza’s family; you should ask her embarrassing questions too.”
Vincenza raises her shoulders, turning to me with her teeth clenched in an expression that looks like she’s half ready to jump close and bite me. I wouldn’t mind.
Piero chuckles. “Don’t worry, Catarina. I already had my questions all planned. Number one, is she cute.”
She rolls her eyes, hissing, “yes.”
“May I offer a question?” Piero’s partner joins in. “What made you accept her advances?”
“I didn’t. I… She happened to share my interest in necromancy and have pretty eyes. And, truly, I hope you’ll find yourself stopping at my discomfort with these questions.”
She thinks I have pretty eyes.
“I’m actually thinking of more questions.” Piero snaps at my servant. “Strawberry for Iulio, vanilla for me.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel aware of my servant’s movements, but they’re autonomous enough for me to look away and forget.
“The bar’s opening soon; I and Catarina have to prepare in the back.” Vincenza stands up.
“Wait.” Piero glances at my family. “We were hoping to get here early enough to keep the announcement to you two, but I don’t think it’s too big a deal if Catarina’s family overhears.”
Vincenza looks down at Piero’s hand, wearing a shining gold ring I’ve never noticed before. “You’re getting wed?”
Iulio answers, “yes! Just as the season turns to spring, we’ll be married in a wonderful Lawrinian garden. You’re both invited.”
Piero says, to me, “you’re family now—whether you like it or not. And the both of you have beds provided by the villa, and the right to pick your plus ones. Your formal letters of invitation should come in tomorrow.”
“I’m very happy for you, Piero. Both of you,” Vincenza breathes.
He warily adds, “I… My mother insisted that our father was invited.”
She jumps up. “For your wedding? He of all people cannot be let near!”
“If he makes a scene, he’ll be excused.”
“He shouldn’t be given the opportunity to make even one!” Vincenza starts her retreat into the back, tugging me with her. “I’ll prepare the bar for opening.”
“Uh, bye, Piero.” I wave.
She shuts the door, locks it, and throws herself against me. The door buckles from my head being pushed into it by her kiss.
“You deserve so much more than me,” she whispers.
“All I want is more of you.”
Her forehead leans into mine. “...Are you feeling better? I don’t want your magic exhausted so early.” She wraps her arms around my neck, lazily combing through my hair.
“I am. I was feeling alright, actually, but I still feel better. That wedding sounds fun.”
“We can’t go.”
“What?”
She gets off me, wiping her eyes. “I can’t go. I know that Piero wants his wedding extravagant. A week with you, and it’ll be obvious what’s between us when my eyes keep glowing.”
Cold, again. Like her short-lived rejection yesterday. She gave that one up quick; she has to give up this too.
“What exactly between us do you not want others to know about?”
“This.” She taps under her eyes.
“Then we won’t have that. I can live for ten days without touching you, just the same way I lived eighteen years before I met you.”
Her eyes twitch at the mention of ‘eighteen,’ and she rushes to grab me. “I can’t! I’m obsessive, Kate. I need to take you at every point I can.”
“And never let anyone else know?”
“Never,” she whispers into my ear.
“Why can’t they? This isn’t wrong.”
“The Ring would gag if it knew what we were doing.”
“N-no… No! It wouldn’t!”
“Just—just go tend the counter.” She kisses me with cold lips and opens the door. “Don’t let the future ruin today.”
“Y-yes, Mistress.”
It’s hard not to bear that conversation on my face, especially not as Piero drowns me in questions.
My family of course has their own questioning. They just need to know my employer’s family drama—drama that I’m not even partial to.
Piero tries to assure me about how minimal the presence of his father will be; he seems to think that’s the problem. Maybe it is. It’s not her only problem, but it’s not helping.
And maybe there’s another problem, some third thing I’m struggling to tell.